


The Smith's Daughter

by DarkStar357



Series: Forever Series [4]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkStar357/pseuds/DarkStar357
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 1356 and there is a bloody war being fought between England and France on French soil. Yet, when the men are not on the battle fields they must maintain their skills and reclaim the wealth they have lost in waging war. Welcome to the tournament! Place your bets! </p><p>May I recommend putting your coin on Herr Norbert Van Wieren...he has a secret weapon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While writing the Forever series...needless to say I have done a lot of research for the past life dream sequences of Agron and Nasir. I have told the readers of Forever that when the story wrapped up I would begin to write out and "publish" them. Though Forever Ever After is not yet done...some time ago this work was one that I HAD to get out of my head and onto the page. It will seem a bit jumpy perhaps...but each segment is a little vignette into their lives. If I was to write it all out... good lord it would be a novel!

She had been following me around for what felt like months. At each tournament she would be there…cheering me on from the sidelines as she waved my colors made from scrap pieces of cloth she had found around the camps and bound to a broken stick. Her long messy dark hair and ragged clothing were hard to miss amidst a sea of noble snobbery as she called out my name from the dirt under the railing. In truth, she was only permitted to view the tournament because of her father. Everyone knew that be was the best smith in the region and they all wanted him to do their repairs.

I was no different. I too took my steel to the man whose name I always seemed to forget. It was something gruff and German, but, I knew her name…Dart. As awkward as the name was, it just seemed to fit. After befriending her it seemed that at the end of every day she was there, at my tent, checking over my weapons and armor for any potential issues. She had an eye for it meaning that her father had taught her well. 

As the season drew to a close I couldn’t help but note that she was growing up quickly. She had grown at least an inch or maybe two during the time I saw her. It worried me. I had heard others about the camp speak of her in a manner that I found distasteful. A young thing such as she should not be out among such men. Knights or not, in the camps after a day of tournament…not all men remembered the code of chivalry. 

It was her coloring that caused her to stand out in the crowd. There were those from Castile and even a few from Aragon I had met that were also of a darker complexion, but she was different. Her skin had been described by some of the other knights as olive color. I did not understand the reference. The only olives I had ever seen were green and she most certainly was not THAT color. 

“Your shield needs a new strapping bolt. It’s come loose,” she said clambering all over my gear. Her actions looked much like my sister’s cat. I had seen the creature crawling upon her shoulders and lap as she attempted to do her afternoon needlework. Watching Dart perform the same actions was moderately amusing. The only thing that saved her from being completely uncouth however, was her trousers. No matter when I saw her, she was always dressed in a short tunic and pants. I had mentioned her attire once to her father. The man, in turn, responded with another question as to what exactly his “son” should be wearing and that was the long standing complication of it all. 

No matter how many times I used a feminine pronoun with the man, he always came back with a masculine one. He insisted that Dart was indeed his son…but I knew the truth. I knew he lied to protect her from the potential threat of having such a young girl in rough company. Not to mention, there were those who would frown upon him for bringing a “daughter” into such a trade. So, I allowed him his farce. 

“How is it you always find something wrong with my armaments when I find none?” 

“Your job is to beat the hell out of it…while my job is to fix it,” she replied smiling. 

I turned and gave her a look of displeasure, “Language Dart. Your vulgarity is un-lady like.” 

“Well, thanks be to god that I’m not a lady then,” she said returning my disdainful look. “I’ll take this to papa and get it back to you before tomorrow.” Picking up the shield she looked out over the field where the dust had finally settled. “Will you be fighting for real after…when you leave here?” 

I followed her gaze, “I intend to return home for the harvest and then yes…if my father wishes me to fight, I will attend whichever side he feels our family needs to support. I just pray it isn’t the English.” Looking back over at her, I couldn’t help but inquire as to her father’s plans. “And you? Where do you go when we are not out here making mock war and you are patching up our wares?” 

Turning to look at me, her face broke into a broad smile, “Papa and I too will return home for the harvest. Last year he had to fix six ploughs in one month. We stay home for the winter too, fixing other stuff. Then again, if we know of any battles nearby we go there.” My shock must have been visible, because the smile dropped from her face, “Not only do people break armor in pretend battle…they do it in real ones too. We go and make repairs…and money by doing it.” 

“Your father takes you into battles?!” 

She shook her head and her tangled mess of hair came partly undone from the leather bond that held it. “No! Our smith is back away from where the soldiers camp. We do not go into the battles…well, I go sometimes after and collect thing that have been dropped or are not needed anymore. There is a lot of…” 

“Hold!” I said holding up my hand. “You go onto the field? Where the men are dead and dying?” I couldn’t help my voice from cracking as I asked her. I had been on those bloody fields. It was no place for her or any child. 

“Yes! There are so many weapons that are tossed aside and I can…” 

I could not restrain myself. Reaching out, I grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “No Dart! You must not do that! You could be hurt, captured or even killed. Promise me that you will not do this! Promise me!” 

Pouting, she nodded her head and then gave me a wry smile. “I’ll take your shield to papa now.” 

I was still stunned, but I managed to joke with her as I always did,“Have it back by the morning or else I will use you as my shield.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Herr Van Wieren! Van Wieren!” I heard being called out from the sidelines and from under the stands as I walked off the field. Throwing back my faceplate, I gained a better view. 

“Dart?” I asked as a familiar face came out of the mud and approached me. She had lost what I had heard others refer to as “a child’s fat” both in her frame and face. This loss exposed her high cheek bones and a very noble brow. All of these striking features were framed by long, curled, dark tendrils that she yet attempted to keep at bay with a leather thong. She had grown much taller as well, yet her figure showed no signs of filling out. “Is that you?” 

She smiled and attempted to brush the filth off the front of her tunic and I noticed just how long her hair had become. If her father still wished to maintain the act of this being his son, he should have it cut. “Who else would it be?” she asked bounding across the distance between us. As she came to my side she quickly took up my sword and shield over her shoulder. 

“Oh no,” I said quickly, “You must not do that.” 

“And why not?” she asked defiantly. “I did it for you on several occasions last year. What has changed then?” 

“Him,” I said pointing at the disgruntled overweight thirteen year old who was now running out to us. 

Taking a firmer grip on my equipment, her face contorted, “Who in the hell is he?” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. Normally I would chastise her for such foulness, but I was, for some reason, just excited to see her. “That would be my squire and cousin.” 

“Give me that!” he cried out as he reached us out of breath. “I am to carry that for him.” 

“Piss off portly! You’re late!” she spit back at him and smacked his hand away as he reached out. 

“Give them to me!... Give me!” he cried like a little girl trying to grab my gear away from her. 

But, she was taller and certainly more agile. She twisted and bent around never giving him a chance to land even a fingertip on either piece. Finally having enough, she kicked him soundly in the shins. Dart won the first round, “Bugger off!” 

I laughed all the way back to my tent with both her foully cursing and my cousin crying on my heels. “Alright, put it all down and give it over to Rokus to clean. Dart, you can help me with my armor.” I turned my back for but a moment before there was a yelp. Spinning around as quickly as I could, I had to stifle yet another laugh. She had set it down…right on his foot. Seeing her face and his, I did all I could to contain myself, “Take it outside Rokus!” 

“But… but…I am supposed to… and he…” he started to grovel. 

“Outside! I will have some time catching up with my friend without your father’s ears!” I barked and kicked at him. Much to his chagrin, he picked up his load and waddled out of the tent.

“And make sure you check those thoroughly! If it breaks while he is fighting…I’ll kick your fat ass!” Dart yelled after him and I was done. 

I burst out laughing again which sadly caused me more pain than I would have liked, “Get this off of me, Dart. Please.” 

“Aye, sir,” she replied and instantly went to work on undoing all the pieces that held me in that metal casing. “Oye…did you sit at the table with Porkus all winter?” 

My face darkened at her comment, “I beg your pardon?” 

She was grunting as she tried to undo the last two buckles, “It wasn’t this tight before! What did you eat while you were away? Or more like,” - she grunted again getting the last one undone - “what didn’t you eat?” 

“It was a rough during the off season,” I fired back. “I didn’t get out as much as I should…yeah… maybe I did put on a little weight,” I said lowering my arms after she removed my breastplate. It was the truth. I was out of shape. I had felt it in my first three rounds and I was certainly going to feel it tomorrow. 

She snorted and then laughed, “I would say…at least 10 pounds. That’s what you get for just sitting around your lavish castle with all your noble friends...drinking wine and laughing for nine months.” Holding her hands in the air, she sashayed her way around my tent after placing the breastplate on the armor stand. 

“My father died, Dart,” I said it and watched the jest instantly leave her sweet face. “I had not even recovered from that…and both my mother and sister passed as well. Yes, I spent a lot of time in the house working on the running of things. Honestly, I was more out of shape in doing that than this.” 

“Forgive me, sir. I had no right to…” she said quickly walking back over to me with concern written all her, including her posture. 

“You could not have known, little one,” I said as I enfolded her into an embrace and lightly kissed the top of her head. I thought about my actions later that day and was perplexed that I had offered her such reassurance. I had never embraced her that way before, nor bestowed any kisses of affection. After several glasses of ale, much later, I came to realize that as I thought I was soothing her, in truth I was comforting myself. No one had held me all those months when I was in pain and wrought with grief. I was expected to be a man and not mourn their deaths. I carried that ache all the way from Frisia to northern France. Having her in my arms in that moment was the one thing that I had needed more than anything. “It was a rough time,” I whispered.

Looking up at me from my chest, I could see her truly compassionate nature aside from the bravado she displayed in front of others, “I cannot imagine what I would do if I lost my papa. You lost all of them? Was there an accident?” 

“No, there was no accident,” I said as I continued to hold her. “My father was ill when I arrived home and died a month later. Only a month after his passing we received word that my older sister, who was recently married, had died in birth along with the child. I believe it was all too much for my mother. She wasted away during the winter months no matter how much my younger sister or I begged her to remain for us.”

She squeezed me tightly and buried her nose into my sweaty tunic, “God be merciful. Please tell me your younger sister is alright?”

I patted her head and smiled. “Yes, my little Lys is quite well. She is about your age. When I arrive home at the end of the season I will begin to make arrangements for her marriage…if my uncle hasn’t already done so,” I grunted. 

“Your uncle,” she asked, once again looking up at me. “What does he have to do with anything?

“He is my father’s younger brother and while I am away, there needs to be someone to run my family affairs.” I said and tapped her on the forehead. I found it slightly awkward that we had been holding each other for that long. Yet, again, there was a certain amount of solace in it. “Porkus…” - I laughed - “Rokus is his youngest son from a second marriage. That’s how I ended up with him. His mother coddles him and hated him being sent with me. I am supposed to give him worldly exposure and make a young man out of him.” Lowering my voice and my head, she stretched up on her tip toes to hear my whisper, “So far he has done nothing but whine and eat everything in sight.”

She laughed loudly and gave me a bit of a squeeze, “Send him to papa and he will… oh no…wait. Do not do that to papa…he would cook him up and…”

The sound of the tent flap caught both of our attentions and we separated from our embrace. “I think it all looks fine,” Rokus said looking at the both of us with judgmental eyes.

“Look over it again,” I commanded and take my armor as well. “Once that is done you are to clean it all.”

“Do I have to? I’m hungry,” he whined as he began to drag my armor stand out of the tent. 

Without a second thought, I found myself grabbing Dart by the hair to keep her from knocking him soundly upside the head. With as stern a voice as I could muster, I looked hard at the boy, “You will eat after you have cleaned my armor and cooked our meal as well. There will be no more dining at inns. If you want to eat…you will have to cook it yourself. Now get out of my sight before I thrash you!” It must have worked because he scrambled to obey me but dropped the stand three times in his exit. I quietly laughed and sat down again. “Stupid boy.”

“He needs a good thrashing,” Dart said as she came to her knees before me and worked at removing the rest of the plate that covered my lower body. “You said something about his father’s ears?”

Bending over, I was able to assist her and make short work of the leggings. She in turn took them, stood up, and walked over to the tent entrance. I heard them clang and Rokus cry out…again. “You know he is going to be with me for some time.”

“The he’ll learn to stay clear of me,” she said walking over and pouring me a cup of wine. 

Why I could not take her as a squire was beyond me, I thought in that moment. She already knew everything that needed to be done…oh but the scandal it would cause. “My uncle, I believe, intends to arrange my marriage as well.” Glancing over at the tent flap, I lowered my voice, “But, there is a part of me that believes he seeks to…how do I say it politely…take my father’s holdings away from me. I think the little brat out there will be reporting back to him all that I do so he can build a case for our Bishop and have me removed from my position in the family for incompetence.”

“Little shit!” she exclaimed and began marching towards the door. 

Jumping up quickly, I grabbed her arm and saved Rokus’ life that day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed and threw up my arms, thus startling the dapple mare that Dart was holding. “I forbade you to attend any such battles! Did you not hear me when I said those words?!”

“You are not my father!” She hissed back at me from clenched teeth as she pet the horse’s muzzle to calm her. “I go where he goes and I must do as he bids. He said we were to go there and so we did. I could not tell him that Sir Van Wieren had made me promise not to…not…”

I took and imposing step towards her, “Did you go out onto the field? Did you? Did you!?”

“Yes! I did!” she released the mare’s halter which allowed her to retreat in the further reaches of the stall and away from their angered words. “I am not like you…or your sister…or Porkus! I have to find ways to get a meal! The amount of steel that is left on a battlefield can be the difference between a month of nothing but bread or the possibly of stew, porridge and maybe some meat other than rabbit. For my father that is what buys him the fuel to feed his forge and the hay for the mules to pull it. I am not like you!”

Looking down from her burning gaze in an attempt to calm myself, I noticed for the first time her bare feet and much shorter pants. At first I thought it might have been from how she was sitting on the edge of the wooden stall door. But, I remembered when she had last greeted me by the field and I had been able to see her ankles and some of the leg above it. She was growing taller and yet wore the same pants day in and day out. She had been wearing shoes that day however. “Where are your shoes, Dart?” I asked. “You should not be in this place without proper shoes.”

Tucking herself up against the large wooden support behind her, she looked much like one of the statues on the cathedral that was meant to scare away evil. “They bite at my toes,” she grumbled. “AND…I walk around in here all the time without them anyway. You don’t have to wear shoes to be around horses.”

“If one of these animals steps on your…”

“Do you honestly believe that those flimsy things I wear would protect me against the likes of their hooves?” she interrupted and made a valid point, but I wouldn’t give it to her.

“You will not interrupt me,” I barked at her and unlike the servants in my home, which jumped to do my bidding, her eyes narrowed and seared holes into my very soul. I did not look away. This was a challenge from her and I was not going to back down no matter how much the look she was giving me sent shivers down my spine. “Remember who you are speaking with.” I re-affirmed.

Slithering down from where she was seated, her eyes never left mine until she reached the ground. Once her bare feet were in the dirt and muck, she bowed deeply. “Forgive me, Herr,” she said with venom. “May I be excused from your lordly presence now?”

“Go!” I said and just waved my hand. I had already dealt with enough of Rokus’ bullshit today…I didn’t need anymore. 

Nodding her head, she stood up and straightened her back as she walked past me towards the door. Keeping true to her character, she had to have the last word, “And don’t go touching MY mare!” Running out the doors she turned in the direction of her father’s forge and I just stood there between anger and hysterical laughter. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The rain had been falling for three days bringing all of the events to a halt. No one wanted to sit through the miserable weather and watch us, no more than we wanted to suit up and fight in it. This however leads to the fact that when men who are prepared to fight are not able to do so…that energy must find other means of release. Sadly, some of the time it comes at the expense of others.

I was trudging my way back from the tent where I had found my own release when I heard something. At first I thought that perhaps the wind was carrying a noise from somewhere across the field, but as I passed a tent I heard it again. This time what I heard was followed by a deep bellow and the sound of a hearty slap. Quite honestly, I had heard other knights disciplining their squires time and time again at these events. However, something struck me in the gut. Something was not right. It was the other men’s laughter that caused me to stop and open the tent flap. I peered in and then saw nothing but red. 

When I came out of my rage, and things returned to focus, there were three men lying on the ground around me covered in blood. Two of them had superficial wounds that would require no attention. The third would need to be taken to the medical staff. I was staring at him trying to decide if I should pommel him further when I felt someone touch my arm. Had it been anyone else, they would have tasted my fist. But, somehow, that touch was all I needed to release the breath that I had been holding. 

“Please…Herr…can we not leave?” she asked, though her words sounded slurred. 

Turning, I looked into the face of an angel…albeit a swollen and bleeding angel. The man on the floor closest to me tasted my boot once more as I took her arm and lead her out of the tent. We had not taken but two steps when I noticed her bare feet caked in mud. Without a second thought, I swept her up into my arms and carried her to her father’s tent. 

I called for him several times without any response and finally concluded that he was not within. I had not considered that with no fighting, he would have no work and would also find ways to pass his time. 

“Alright my little Liebespfeil, let’s get you cleaned up and dry,” I sat her down near the forge which filled the space with welcomed heat. Looking around I tried to find some clean water. All I could find was the quench bucket nearby and filthy rags. Wandering further into the space I looked high and low for something I could use and found nothing. It was then that I truly saw the world in which she and her father lived in. 

There were no extra comforts anywhere within the small area that had several leaks in the fabric roof. Water dripped down onto a floor that was nothing but dirt, bringing the mud indoors as well as out. In fact, there only seemed to be one area in which the earth was covered by what might have been a rug and that appeared to be the sleeping space tucked off to the side. I noted a set of small beds that were stacked one on top of the other on a crude metal frame. Their coverings were miniscule and the surface beneath them appeared to be nothing but straw. At the foot of these beds was a single battered trunk which I opened in an attempt to find some scrap of cloth. Within were two rough spun tunics and one pair of hose. Judging by the size, they belonged to her father. There were no toiletries to mention, no books, no child’s games, no half completed needlework…nothing but tools of the trade that were all covered in a thin layer of black soot. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked in a quiet voice from behind me.

Turning to look at her I shook my head, “Something… a cloth to clean your face?”

“It is of no concern…I’ll take care of it,” she said standing up on legs that threatened to give out from under her. “I’ll go to the…”

“You will go nowhere,” I said perhaps a little too forcefully. It was the first time I had ever seen her flinch from anything. “Forgive me, Dart. I do not want you going back out until this weather has passed. These men…they are dangerous and they…they are capable of such evil as you found out this evening.”

She turned her head away from my gaze, “I’m not afraid of them.”

I crossed the distance between us and took her shoulders into my hands, “You need to be. Not all men are like…they are not like…”

“Like you,” she said with a questioning tone to her voice. 

“No, they are not like me,” I said and smiled at her. My finger absentmindedly pulled a piece of hair from her bloodied cheek. “When they are unable to fight, they seem to fall to the drink which leads them away from certain oaths. They become vile creatures who would only seek to despoil you of your virtue as you unfortunately learned tonight. What were you doing out there?”

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, “I was making a delivery for papa. The man, who you…the man who I hope you killed…refused to pay the agreed amount. When I threatened to take his axe back until he paid it, he struck me.” She shook her head and I watched her go rigid, “His friends began to laugh and that seemed to…I don’t know…that’s when he grabbed me and began to rip at my clothes. So, I bit him. He struck me again, hard,” her fingers felt the skin just beneath her quickly swelling eye. “He kicked me on the floor and then….” Her voice quieted, “Then, he was on top of me tearing at me again…but you came and…you know the rest.”

“In truth, I don’t remember. I flew into such a rage…I could have killed them all,” I huffed, released her, and began my search again for a cloth. “I am sure that it will be reported to the marshals and I will be getting a visit. Do you mind if I tell them what happened?”

“Will they have to come and talk to me?” she asked with apprehension in her eyes. “I do not want…” Lowering her head, she looked at her torn clothing. None of her skin was exposed, but her garment was ruined. “If it will prevent you from being found guilty of some charge, I will speak with them. You protected me so I should do the same for you.”

I smiled at her willingness to set aside her fears and defend me…if it came to that. “If it comes to that,” I said out loud, “I will be there with them and you will not have to face those men again.”

“But, I will!” she cried out. “He never paid me! Oh, my papa is going to thrash me.”

Discovering a small scrap of cloth off to the side that appeared to have been torn of something of a finer weave, I turned my attention to finding water. “He will do no such thing, Dart. I will tell him what occurred and see that he receives his due payment. You are not to blame in this. Ah!” I said almost laughing at myself. There may not have been any clean water in the tent, but there was certainly quite a bit falling from the heavens outside. 

Opening the scrap up just inside the entrance, I noted colors and the needlework. It was not some random remnant of cloth. It was a piece of one of my tunics. In fact, it happened to be the tunic that I had been wearing the first day that Dart and I had met. The garment had been ruined last year during the season. I had torn the damaged sections off, cast them to the ground, and returned the rest to my sister to craft a new one from. I was speechless that she had kept the piece that I had considered a loss. 

I allowed the rain water running off the tent roof to saturate the fabric and returned inside. She had gone back to her seat and was struggling to untie the leather thong in her hair. Seeing me coming, she abandoned her attempt. “I am going to use this piece of cloth,” I said holding it out in front of me. “I know where it came from.”

She looked at it and then lowered her head, “Are you mad?”

“No,” I replied, placing my finger under her chin and lifting her face. “Just wondering, why?” She did not baulk as I began to wash the blood away. I knew it had to be painful, but she did not even draw a harsh breath. 

“It is the softest cloth I have ever touched,” she said quietly looking into my eyes. “You threw it aside and I…I just wanted to keep it. You are not angry?”

I laughed, “As I said, no. I was just confused as to how it ended up here.” The cut next to her eye was fairly deep. The man must have been wearing a ring to cause such damage. I silently cursed wishing that my best friend, Jurryt, had come with me. He would have been able to sew up her wound and not allow it to scar. “This needs more attention than I can give,” I said being as gentle as I could.

“All wounds heal,” she said so bleakly it was shocking for me. 

“Yes, but they need not leave scars,” I replied as I moved my attention to the cut on her lips. This cut was not as severe, but the swelling there would be painful when it came time to eat and chew for a few days. “I can speak with the medical…”

“Please, do not,” she said abruptly. “Forgive my interruption, but you have already done enough. In fact,”- reaching up, she took the cloth from my hands and then stood - “I will see to this. You surly have other things to attend to than looking after me.”

Her demeanor had somehow changed in that instant. Somehow, I could just feel that she wanted to be rid of me, “Do you wish me to leave?”

There was a pause, “Yes, I think that is best. Thank you for your…thank you for…” She placed the cloth on her lips and lowered her eyes. 

I nodded and took myself to the exit. Looking back at her, she did not see that my eyes were upon her as she crossed the room to the sleeping area, climbed the ladder, and crawled into the upper bed clutching the damp cloth. I sighed and shut my eyes as I closed the flap behind me. 

There had been a pause and for some odd reason it warmed my heart. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

“Good day, Burkhard,” I said looking into the forge. I had finally learned Dart’s father’s name, though I had had to ask several individuals. 

“Ah, good day, Herr Van Wieren,” he replied looking up from where he pumped the bellows on his portable hearth. I remembered how shocked I had been the first time I had seen his mobile establishment. 

Most of the tournaments I attended were near the town of the lord who sponsored them. Repairs and the like could be done with the local blacksmith if there was a need. However, I had learned that all men who work an anvil are not created equal no matter what the word of our Lord God said. Some men were simply still too novice to provide quality. Master Burkhard…I gave him the title of Master because of his skill…had been traveling with the tournaments long enough that the knights knew his work was superior. Granted, he put off the locals when he rolled in with all the contestants. 

His entire forge was completely transportable, though it had to be drawn by four fairly large mules. The hearth was a specially built wagon that compared to pageant wagon I had once seen in Calais. It was much larger than a carriage and certainly of a more sturdy construction. The hearth itself was made of metal and not stone. It was located near the front of the wagon and had a metal chimney that served to drive most of the smoke out of the tent that was erected around the parked cart. He seemed to use the foldable sides as both his workspace and storefront. I had never seen anything like it in all of my travels. 

“Are you in need of repair?” Burkhard asked, wiping his hands on his thick leather apron. 

“No, not today sir,” I replied and watched the man’s shoulders slump. The lack of tournament fighting seemed to have an impact on his business. I would have thought many would be having their armor and weapons repaired during the respite. It appeared that many were holding onto what funds they had in case there would be no more competitions and they had to return home. “I have actually come to return something to you that was lost.”

“Oh?” he asked as he walked towards me. 

I looked around the darkness of the tent and finally spotted the other set of eyes that were on me. “Hello, Dart,” I said with a smile. “I have brought something for you as well.”

“What’s that?” she asked standing and coming from the sleeping area. Once she was in the dim light, I was I able to see the full extent of her injuries. The skin around her eyes was deeply bruised and her face was swollen. She was still wearing the clothes that had been torn, though it appeared she had attempted to stich them. But, it was poorly done. There was not enough fabric to work with. 

As she began to approach me, her father hissed and waved her off back to the rear of the tent. “No visitors for you! Get!”

She scrambled to obey the thick and gruff man as my face knitted into one of concern. I watched her retreat back to the large trunk at the foot of their bed and sit down in disgust. 

“Stupid boy cost me…a large sum,” he said with a grunt. “He knows better than to start fights with the squires! Of course they would beat him and steal from him to prove a point. They are noble born and trained to fight…he is…well… stupid.”

I burst out laughing and Dart sat up straight. 

Burkhard looked back at me, “Eh?” 

I knew that there was no way Dart would have told her father the truth of what had happened three days ago. She would have fabricated some story so he would not restrict her movements about the camps. I had thought of using it to my benefit in an attempt to enlighten him on why she should not be allowed to roam about freely. But, the look on her face that day had been enough for me to know that she had learned a valuable lesson. 

“I saw the boys whom Dart fought with and I was able to retrieve the sum that was lost,” I said pulling out a small leather pouched filled with coins. Opening it, I dumped the contents into my palm. “Here you are,” I said handing the eager man the money. “Those that took it were dealt with, harshly,” I said looking back at Dart once more. “They were told to pay up what was owed or suffer the consequences of the Marshals for their actions.”

“Thank you, Herr,” Burkhard said as I placed the coins into his hand. 

My eyes met Dart’s and she looked at me in such a way, I knew she understood the truth of my words. “I also have this for you,” I said, pulling out the folded fabric from under my arm. “Rokus outgrew these with his eating and has others. I thought perhaps you could use them.” I held it out towards her, but then looked at her father. “If that is permitted by you?”

The man looked at me with confusion in his eyes, but then nodded. He walked back to his hearth with the coins in his hand and gestured Dart to come forward.

She seized the opportunity and bolted forward, “Rokus learned how to cook then?”

“No,” I said, laughing once more. “I found out that he has been being fed by one of the other knights from Frisia who took pity on him and all of his whining.” I handed her the tunic and she quickly unfolded it. Her eyes looked it over for a moment, but then they lowered to the ground. I knew exactly what she was thinking. “You are to take them, Dart. If not…well then they will only go to waste.”

“What will I say when he sees me wearing his old clothes,” she said, still not raising her head. 

I shook my head, “Once you take them in a bit, he won’t even know. Here…” I unfolded the pants I was holding as well. “This fabric is thicker than what you get around here. It is much colder near the sea.”

Her eyes finally met mine. “Why are you good to me?” she whispered so her father would not hear. 

“You are my greatest fan,” I said, then handed her the pants. “Who else cheers for me as loud as you do?”

“No one,” she replied, quietly taking the pants. Setting the tunic aside, she began looking at the leggings, “He really is a fat bastard, isn’t he?”

I rolled my eyes, “Language, Dart.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“It’s over,” I said with a deep sigh.

Dart sighed as well, “I know.” Looking over my armor, she took notice of every little scratch and dent, “What will you do now then?”

“I have heard that the weather is less soggy to the east. There may be some events there and they usually have fairly good prizes,” I replied shooing her away from my breastplate. 

“I have heard that the Navarrese may make an attempt into France…that is if they can gain the support of Gascony.” Walking away from my armor, she huffed and then plopped herself down into my chair. She picked up my eating dagger from the table and began to pick at her nails. “They say that treaty the King of Navarre made with John…what was it called…Treaty of Mannes? Something like that…well they say that that King down there is going to go over to the English.”

Walking across my tent, I took the blade from her hands, “How do you hear all this?”

“My father,” she said matter-of-factly. “Men come to him and they talk…blah, blah, blah…I hear it all while I am working. Nothing but all this talk about who might do what and attack where. booo…booo…blah….blah…”

I shook my head, “Does this mean that you father intends to go and find a battle?” 

“He said we might go home,” she replied and shrugged.

This peaked my interest, “Home?” I had never really pressed her about from where she hailed. Judging by her name and that of her father, I assumed that they were from somewhere in the Holy Roman Empire, but I was unsure exactly where. In the past whenever I had asked her, she dodged the question with a clever comment. “Tell me about your home, Dart. Is that where your mother waits for you?”

“My mother is dead,” she said and stood up. 

I quickly lowered my head and crossed myself, “Forgive me, Dart. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect taken. She died many years ago.” Walking across my carpeted floor, she went to the tent flap and peered out at the bleak weather. “I guess you could say that she waits for me there…I mean that is where she is buried. We have a small farm outside of Buda.”

“Buda?” I blurted out.

“Yes,” she replied shaking her head. “Have you ever been there?”

I walked over behind her and also looked out into the grey, “No, I never have. I know of a knight from around that area.”

She looked up at me and closed the flap, “Did you know that there was a Roman town there a long time ago?”

“I did not know that…however I do know that there are old Roman forts and towns all over,” I said smiling. “If you have a farm, why is it that your father travels and does blacksmith work?”

“After my mother died,” – she sighed – “my father gave the farm over to his brother. He built the forge and we have been on the road since. Well, we did go home twice, but we only stayed for the winter months.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder, “This is no life for you.”

“What? And sitting on some dreary farm is?” she turned and pushed my hand off of her. “At least out here I get to see things that I would never see in that place.”

“This is dangerous,” I replied giving her a stern look. “Out here is no place for a…”

“Don’t say GIRL again! You are so thickheaded!” folding her arms across her chest she stomped her foot. She huffed and looked away.

I raised my own arms in defeat, “Alright…alright.” Laughing, I reached out and messed up her already tousled hair. “When do you think that you will leave then?”

She smacked my hand away playfully, “In a day or so. The journey from here takes a fortnight.”

“Are you and your father…” I let my words drift off and she looked at me with wrinkled brows. I knew what I wanted to ask, but I did not want to be offending. Scratching my own disheveled mess of dirty blonde curls, I squinted as I tried to find the right words. “Are you able to make the journey comfortably?”

“It is never comfortable with those damn mules. At least this time I get to ride my mare instead of having to sit on the wagon,” she replied. 

I took a breath and plunged forward, “Do you have enough money to get home?”

She stiffened. I knew that she would. “Yes!” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “We do and I wouldn’t take anything from you even of you offered.”

“Who said I was offering,” I replied, folding my own arms across my chest and turning up my chin. 

“Sheeesh!” she cried and rolled her eyes. “I figured that was what you were trying to get at. Papa got paid for all his jobs…so we have enough money to get home.”

I couldn’t help but smile, “Very well then. I will be leaving on the morrow…” I said it and she crumpled. I too suddenly felt such a sting, like nothing I had ever known. “I will look for an event, but I imagine that the journey I take will lead me home as well…unless…I rode with you and your father.”


	3. Chapter 3

Looking out at all the faces watching me leave the field in victory, not one was familiar. I had not attended a tournament in Compiègne for some time. The winter had been harsh and many knights were not in attendance. I could only assume that their stores had been depleted by the storms that raged well into the spring. Money would need to be spent on things other than traveling to participate in tournaments. With the English invading from the south and wreaking havoc…many of the French knights had been called into service. There were still lords in the north whom, to ease the peoples’ minds and perhaps their own, were still holding “games”.

That is what my uncle had called tournamenting …games. He had no idea of just how trying these events were. He also did not understand the politics behind them. I had no allegiance to any lord. I was an outsider in these lands and my services were definitely for hire in these harsh times. Many brave souls had been lost in the battles against the English, so good fighting men were always needed. Participation here showed my skills. 

Sadly, no one had ever called me into service…maybe this season would be different.

I trudged the way to my tent, already feeling my muscles begin to ache. I always hated the first day. No matter how much I practiced over the cold months, being hit by one equal to me in skill always hurt when returning to the sword ring. At that exact moment I wished Rokus had been with me. He was mostly useless, but at least he could have carried my sword or shield…which I was currently trying NOT to drag behind me. I needed a drink.

“You look like Hell unearthed,” the voice of an angel said as I pulled aside my tent flap. “Did you need to use the breastplate stretcher again?”

I dropped everything at the entrance of the tent and stared at her. She had shot up another foot! Her body had yet to begin filling out, but she was now as tall as my shoulder. Wearing the clothing that I had given her last season, I could see where the pants had had fabric added to the legs though they were tucked into a pair of very worn boots. I was dumbfounded. I was certain that her hair was longer…it had to be. Normally, if she pulled it up, it did not near her shoulders. Now, it rested there even with the leather piece tying it out of her face. Her sweet and smiling face was just as I remembered. What was different was the wound on her forehead. It was not recent, but was still healing. 

“What?” she said, raising an eyebrow and looking at me indignantly.

Who knew that I could move that fast in my armor? I closed the distance between us in an instant and took her into my arms, rather roughly. 

She cried out in protest, “Get that off you and then you can hug me, you oaf!”

“Oaf?” I said releasing her. 

Taking a step back, she rubbed her shoulder where the mail had bitten into her tender flesh protected only by the thickly spun green cloth. “Forgive me, your lordship…Herr Van Oaf.” Her laughter filled my tent and it was sweetest sound I had heard all year. “May I help you out of that? Or is Porkus bringing up the rear?”

I smiled at her. She would never change. “No Porkus this season. He told his mother about all the abuse he suffered and she decided he would not be coming with me again.” Laughing, I slipped off my gloves. “Yes, you may help me...” - She started for me with eager and grabby hands, but I halted her – “…ONLY if you tell me what happened to your face.”

She huffed and pointed to her wound, “This? I got hit. Enough said.”

“Hit by who and what?”

“What does it matter?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. 

I mimicked her actions, though it was not as easy in my full kit. “It matters. As your knight I must avenge your honor and do harm to whomever has done harm to you.”

Her hands began to drop at my words, but it appeared that she had to hold onto her resolve. “Whoever said that you were my knight?”

I gestured at her clothing with a lofty look, “You wear my colors, do you not?”

“Schite,” she muttered looking down at her tunic. Her arms fell back to her sides and she kicked at my rug. “I guess I do.”

“Dart!” I exclaimed. I had never heard such a vile word come from a mouth sweet of hers. 

She bristled instantly, “You can’t do him harm because he already died!”

“What?”

“It was an arrow from an English bowman. He got a shot off and thanks be to the virgin that I bent over to pick something up from the ground. Talk about luck! Instead of that arrow imbedding in my chest it just did this,” she gestured her forehead. “He got his though. I saw him later on the field...his guts were all over-”

“WHAT?!”

“What!?”

In a blind fury, I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, “Where were you?”

“Outside Toulouse,” she blurted out as I squeezed her.

“You were going home,” I said as my eyes burned. News had traveled all the way to Frisian coast of the English landing in Gascony and laid waste to everything as they pressed northward. Hundreds had been killed on both sides and Toulouse had been devastated. 

She pulled herself free of my grasp, “We did! We just didn’t stay.” Rubbing where I had grabbed her, she was bordering between tears and anger. “There was no work for papa!”

“You said you had a farm and that-”

“It’s gone!” she screamed at me. “It burned and then my uncle sold away the land. We have nothing but what those damn mules drag around. Everything we have we carry on our back. I don’t have a home!” Her face was bright red and she was beginning to pant. “That is ALL we have to make a living and we HAVE to go where people will need us. That means these tournaments, moving around, and it also means bloody battles. Without you idiots beating on and even killing each other I don’t eat. Even then, those damn mules come first!”

Holding up my hands, I took a cautious step towards her, “I am sorry, Dart. I really am. I had no idea.”

She sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of her hand, “How could you…you were too far away.” 

I had heard her, but it was mumbled and I sought clarification, “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she replied wiping her nose once more and instantly changing the subject of discussion. “Do you want out of that armor or not? I could just leave you here to sweat in that thing…or do you have some pretty lass coming to help you?”

“No one else is coming,” I replied. Part of me wanted to laugh at how obstinate she could be. “I would appreciate if you would offer me assistance, Dart.”

Throwing up her hands, she marched right over to me, “Then enough with this talk. Sheesh…” her hands were nimble and quickly began to work on the buckles that held on my breastplate and pauldron. I stopped her for a moment so I could remove the chain mail coif that was still around my neck. It was the last piece on and the first piece off. With her assistance, I was out of my metal suit in remarkable time. If only she could be my squire. 

“That’s a nasty nick in your vambrace there.” She pointed out the spot where Rokus had damaged my armor on our way home last season. The boy did not load it properly onto the pack horse and it had fallen off. “You could get that caught on something…including yourself.”

“Could your father repair it?” I asked. 

She looked it over a few moments, “Yeah, he could. It might take him a day though. He is already getting orders….” - she paused and shuffled her feet - “or maybe I could do it for you.”

I tried not to look surprised, yet it did make sense. She spent enough time in and around her father’s business to learn from him. Others would have scoffed and perhaps even laughed at her for making such a suggestion. Of course, from others that would have been expected. I could tell by the look on her face that she was preparing for me to tell her what she figured she would hear from any other. “Yes, you could. Indeed, you may. Yet, I need it back by tomorrow afternoon. Will it be done by then?”

She did not answer. She simply grabbed the damaged piece and scurried out of my tent. I am sure that she could hear me laughing all the way to wherever her father’s forge was set up.


	4. Chapter 4

A brightly colored and lively sounding tent on the outskirts of the grounds was commonplace with the tournaments as we traveled about. It had been with us in Compiègne and followed us to Cambrai. We had been there for nearly a week before we received word of a larger affair in Namur. Nearly two weeks of games celebrated the marriage of the Duke and time spent there had been profitable. Dart had assisted me on numerous occasions by insuring that both my armor and weapons were ready for each event. Her repair on my vambrace back in Compiègne was superb and I paid her for the work. Of course, she refused to take the initial sum offered. She haggled me down to a much lower amount… which just seemed odd. 

From Namur we traveled again to a smaller event outside of Beringen. It had been a beautiful two day ride through lush countryside untouched by the squabbles of the French and English. Once again my little shadow was never far from my side. Over the course of the season, some of the other men competing had badgered me about her. There were those who felt my association with her was inappropriate. One of my status should not be circulating with those below my station. There were others who believed there was something deviant in our friendship. I resisted the urge to break their faces open with my fists. However, those men do not have the benefit of an instant blacksmith. When my steed, Jupiter, pulled his shoe on the ride to Beringen, I had road side assistance that those pompous asses would never have. 

The grounds at Beringen had not been used in some time. They had quickly been repaired and upgraded to make room for such a large company. Again, there was a call for a celebration as the local Duke now had a son and heir to his title and lands. The events here, so far, had also lined my purse nicely. Wagers among the contestants were huge business. While the true winners would not be awarded until the end of the tournament itself, daily matches were a quick and easy way to make coin. I had reflected on my winnings as I had made my way through the mobile city of fabric to that multicolored tent where I was about to part with a substantial sum. 

Most lords were willing to overlook that tent being set up as it appeased the men who came to fight and in some ways protected the women of the nearby towns. Young ladies would certainly swoon at the knights that came to these events. Rich and titled families would even put their daughters on display in hopes of marriage proposals by a visiting lord. Sadly, the numbers of those women were few. The poor townsfolk could only dream that a knight would see their daughter who was above average in looks and make an offer of marriage. It rarely happened that way. More common was the string of bastards born nine months after the tournament had packed up and moved along. To appease the needs of the men and to create a buffer for the young ladies, this tent became a necessity. 

Indeed some towns had their own brothels and they looked down on these foreigners taking away their business. Others were more accepting if the event was overly large. A town whore could only handle so many men before she exhausted herself. The sudden influx of one hundred plus men would certainly put a strain on her abilities. 

For those of us that traveled the circuit, this tent became something familiar. You knew what you were going to get and men even developed their favorites. I was no different. I had my favorite and he…yes he, suited me. Now, if he would only get back in here and take care of those needs. 

Where was that boy…I did not like to be kept waiting. In truth, I rarely came here. Yet, when I did, I expected quick and discreet services. I would only venture here when my own hand no longer gave me the desired release that I needed. My fighting suffered if I did not. Where was he? My time was valuable. He would normally be gratifying me by now. Instead he had quickly ushered me into this side room and told me to sit. I did, fully expecting him to join me, but he had turned and left just as swiftly. 

I was about to stand up when something…someone…began to move on the floor in front of me. Soft bells jingled as the figure began to reach towards the roof of the tent. She rolled her shoulders and began to rise to her knees. The music to which she was responding filled the night air. It could regularly be heard throughout the camp…this strange music with a woman singing in a foreign language. I had been told that it came from the desert lands far to the south. It was the music of the Arabs and that women danced provocatively to it. It seemed that this evening I was to be given a display of it. It was not what I wanted and I grumbled as I reached for the wine that was provided. 

The dancer had her back to me as she rose from the floor. Her body rippled like water from head to toe and the bells on the belt that hung low on her hips responded to her movement. Smooth black hair peeked out from under her ornate headdress that also jingled with her movements. I took a deep drink from my goblet and gave myself over to the richness of the red wine. It flowed down my throat and warmed my belly. I tucked my foot under myself and decided that I would try and enjoy the show. 

The cadence of the drums began to pick up. The sounds of the flute and other string instruments began to be drowned out by their rhythm. The dancer responded in kind. She leveled out her arms as her hips shook with true vigor. All the metal about her body rang perfectly with the music as she began to turn in place. The fabric she wore spun out from her body as she spun and…

I gasped. The dancer was not a woman…but a young man. 

He raised his arms up over his head and danced back and forth across the carpets beneath his bare feet. The only sound that could be heard was the fabric about him and the melodious tinkling of all those bells. He pitched and rolled with the music in a way that I had never seen done…at least not by a young man such as this. His body was beautiful. Perfectly smooth with lithe and lean muscle. I only wished that I could see his face. Full lips pouted out from just beneath a mask of thin material that covered his eyes. 

I nearly dropped the goblet I was holding as I sat up straight. I had to. From my reclining position, I found that my pants were beginning to be rather uncomfortable. My body was responding to him like it had for no other in my entire life. My heart was racing as lust and desire took a hold of me. What was in the wine? Nothing! He rocked his pelvis back and forth and then his gaze locked on mine from behind the mask. Slowly, sensually his hands cascaded down his chest… fingers dancing along the flesh to the silver buckle of the belt. I felt my cock buck when I thought he might remove his clothing. Sadly, this was not the case. The music slowed and he turned away from me.

I feared that his dance was done, that he would be walking out…away from me. I began to rise, but he bent low and picked up the corner of the fabric skirt that he wore. Lifting it I could see his ankles and the silver bells reflected the light as he began to spin about. He smiled. Not at me it seemed, but at the true joy he seemed to feel as he danced around the space. I felt a strange stirring in my chest as warmth spread through me. It came from my chest and down my limbs. It traveled back once more before it settled in my loins and began to burn. He descended to the floor and kneeled before me a few feet away. Rolling his hips and his eyes once more leveled on mine. It was my undoing. 

Growling, I came from my seat in an instant. Like some kind of animal, I launched and took him into my arms. I landed on top of him and we both fell to the carpeted floor. He gasped as I looked down at him for a moment before I captured his lips with mine. I could not keep my hands from his flesh as I kissed him over and over. The coarseness of palms moved over his soft exposed skin as I gripped him tighter against me. His kisses were clumsy, his tongue not knowing how to dance with mine. I began to believe that perhaps he was not interested in my affections. Then he moaned and pressed his hips up into me. 

One of my hands dove into the thick black hair under the headdress he wore as the other moved down his body to his hip. I tugged at his attire and pressed my knee between his legs. I heard something tear, but I had not a care. The clothing he wore simply began to unravel from him, as if it were not even sewn. Belts holding the fabric in place felt to be the only thing keeping me from what I desired touching. I had to taste him. I had to have him. My body was screaming with each passing moment that his hands were on me. I needed to be inside of him. 

He moaned again and I reached up to pull the cloth aside from his face. But, he quickly grabbed my hand and pulled it away. His head shook and the metal about the headdress he wore jingled once more. 

“I may not behold all of you…only this,” I asked as my finger traced over the veil looking beyond it into his large eyes. I could not make out their color, but they were lined heavily in black. He shook his head again and then suddenly, kissed me…on my nose.

“So be it,” I said, laughing. “If I am not to be given your face…then I shall have the rest of you.” I kissed him once more, plunging my tongue deep into his mouth before I began to glide down him. He panted as my mouth moved over his flesh…nipping at his neck, sucking at his chest, and tonguing at his belly. Writhing beneath me, he urged me on. My hands found their way once more into the cloth that wrapped about him. Tugging at it gently, it gave no resistance and fell away from his narrow hips. I stopped at what I beheld there. 

“Oh…and what it this,” I whispered, pulling the fabric further away from him. There on his upper thigh, just below his hip was a mark. A dark spot on his flesh, for the briefest of moments my mind reeled at the thought of the plague. I had never seen the Black Death and there had been no talk of it here. Looking at it closely, I could see that it was simply an area of darker skin. I cursed myself for my own stupidity, but then remembered the words of my mother. “I have heard this called the mark of black magic…certainly you have bewitched me.” Damnation to superstition. I bent over and tasted it quickly before moving to the flesh I desired more. 

A gasp escaped him as my mouth closed over his exquisite uncut shaft. I did not tease at it with my tongue. I swallowed him whole…down deep into my throat as my hands sought his sack. His entire body came off the floor and I was sure that his cry was heard all the way across the camp.

“Fire! Fire!” a voice called out in panic.

Lifting my head, I looked towards the tent wall where the shouting had come from. “Where?” I asked.

“The stands! The seating stands are a blaze and it is spreading quickly!” the voice called back and continued. “Fire! Fire! The Duke calls all able to assist! Fire!”

Looking down at this beautiful creature, I cursed my ill fate. I pulled his clothing back over his slightly swollen sex and sighed, “I must go.” 

He nodded at me as his headpiece chimed and reflected the light. I had to taste him once more. Crawling up his bare chest, I kissed him firmly on those soft lips.

“Get yourself to safety…away from all this that will burn and consume you. I would have you out of harm's way my beauty.” I stood and straightened my clothing. “Head out to the open practice field or past the camp to the north. There is nothing there to burn.”

“Yes, sir,” he said breathlessly and attempted to stand. I am quite sure all of the fabric about his legs caused him restrictions. Without any real effort, I lifted him from the carpets and placed him onto his feet. His full lips tempted me yet again. Tucking my finger under his chin, I lifted his face and placed a gentle kiss, “I am Herr Norbert Van Wieren …and I will find you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Work is Un-Beta'd... Comments are always welcome.


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